


Stars and Spice

by ibeta



Series: Secret Identity Stuff [3]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Humour, Icefell, Icefell Papyrus, Icefell Sans, M/M, Other Sanses, Secret Identity, Underfell on Ice?, Universe-seeking but on a screen, puns
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-09-23 09:27:09
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9649700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ibeta/pseuds/ibeta
Summary: Icefell AU. In an Underground where it's kill or be killed, but on ice. Sort of.It's dangerous to be alone in the middle of nowhere, training yourself to be a good skater when you're supposed to be a land fighter.(Slapping your rude younger brother with your fan is a big no-no.)





	1. your scary bro

**Author's Note:**

> A quick intro. Like seriously it really lacks details. Third chap might be the detail.
> 
>  
> 
> [progress and stuff](https://ibeta.tumblr.com/progress)

It had been a passing thought, but it didn’t stop him from sewing it in secret, or making that pair of fans to complement the black and red colours of the ice skating dress he had hidden in his old lab.

He had been in his sentry point, where he was supposed to be watching out for humans, not secretly sewing embroidered images of skeleton dragons all over the fan. It had become a secret habit, and it all started from making his brother fashionable clothes while claiming he had bought it from somewhere.

He’d doubted anyone had his brother’s size. Most monsters in the Underground had flesh or extra limbs. If any human clothing was found, it was quickly altered for someone with a lot of flesh, especially if they were part of the Royal Guard. However, unlike the dogs, his brother had a rather sophisticated taste in clothing. Human scrap would not do for a Royal Guard like his brother. He wanted the best clothing, something stylish that would complement his sharp features.

Sans had secretly searched the dump for human magazines with clothes on it. Fortunately for him, he’d found a little book about fashion design that was helpful for beginners. From there, he only had to alter some designs and create his own, then sew it up in the old lab and away from prying eyes. It had taken him a few tries to get it. He wouldn’t be a secret scientist if he couldn’t manage to adapt his hand from mixing dangerous chemicals or building machines to sewing clothing down to perfection.

He had wanted to make his brother proud of his creation, a beautiful ice skating gear for his brother, carefully stitched with neutral magic so that it had much more defense than normal. It was practical, and yet also stylish. A top that was made with a cloth-like material that faded from black to red, one made of magic and made to look like silk, etched with his brother’s insignia with a golden thread. There was golden embroidery that looked like a belt around the trousers, one pair that faded from red to black, because he had known his brother for so long that he never went out without a red scarf, a pair of red boots and a pair of red gloves. The amount of magic Sans had used took him several months, just to make the clothing flexible and full of defensive mechanisms.

The moment he had seen Papyrus’ expression flash with suppressed delight, Sans had wanted to admit that he made it. But of course he didn’t, because he was a coward who feared his brother’s hurtful sharp words. What if his brother rejected the clothing just because he made it? He didn’t think he could handle more of that, so he kept his teeth shut and lied about where he got it.

Papyrus had sworn to wear it whenever he was on ice. He said it complemented his bones and it matched his skates and scarf. Sans had felt the urge to flee from his brother’s compliments, flustered to the core of his soul. The look on Undyne’s face when her stupid little spear bounced off the costume had his brother smugly showcasing his attire for months, subtle bragging and yanking everyone’s envy to attention.

Unlike the other universes he’d glimpsed made with the foundation of music (stars, seeing the other Sans conjuring a piano for the ivory puns had been hilarious, not to mention that other Sans in a better Icefell universe that liked to do improvisations to songs full of puns), his universe was began from a foundation of ice-skating and dancing. Many monsters practiced on the ground at first, and then they transitioned onto the ice with what they’d practice on the ground. Sure, they still had some music in their battles, but it was never touching the grace they had on ice.

Sans was a battle dancer.

It hadn’t been his first choice. He had, at first, wanted to simply be some kind of ice skater (he was good at jumps; the other ice-skating Sans proved it). But of course, nothing ever went right in his universe, because his brother had overheard his conversation with the receptionist and demanded that he change his style. Papyrus had wanted him to be someone who fought like his magic, heavy and sharp.

So, years later, he was still a damned battle dancer, never to touch the ice, stuck to the ground with gravity pulling at his bones, never to glide like those ice skaters.

He had wanted to be some kind of entertainer, not a fighter. Not after their black hole of a father had accidentally offed himself by trying to figure out if DT plus the CORE flux would make everything better. It didn’t. It just ripped their stupid father apart in some kind of magic-science hybrid of energy, which had scattered his remains and identity… everywhere and nowhere. Sans had been a scientist, who had also wanted to be an ice dancer or a figure skater, not a stupid little battle dancer that couldn’t even fight because his damned HP was a single point.

In secret, he had stepped onto the ice, thanking all his scientific skill when he had met another Sans with his machine (a creation from his angry, bonely boredom). The ice skater had helpfully told him what to do with himself, making sure he had a reprieve from his brother’s harsh treatment and his bonely life. Making the ice rink in the same location had been hard, but the other Sans had been greatly encouraging, offering his sincere compliments with an earnest look in his eyelights. It was odd, but it had helped a lot when he felt at his lowest. Since the School of Rhythm hadn’t built the college or university branch in his world, there was no chance for a monster sighting in his rink unless they had a death wish.

The next Sans he met was someone from a world full of music (and a galaxy ton of musical instruments). Everyone in that universe could play an instrument of music (or blow on a blade of grass, for all he could care). Due to resets, his double could play most musical instruments that anyone could imagine (because of course another Sans would be better than him and sought many friendly monsters to train him).

It had been difficult trying to take his musical advice seriously when he was playing on a black violin with lots of skulls embossed on its surface. Not to mention he was somehow playing a rendition of Danse Macabre with just that violin. He had been reluctantly impressed by how many puns that Sans could make about skeletons in music. Pianos, violins, flutes, harps and even a _spacedrum_ (what in gravity’s name was a spacedrum?!)… Nothing was spared from puns.

Sans never wanted to think about Undyne’s ivory piano keys ever again. Just the thought of her slimy fingers anywhere near his bones made him shudder in disgust.

In the end, with his machine, he had gained two weirdly positive friends from different universes. Even if it had been just between screens, they had been helpful, not even asking for anything but for him to enjoy his skating on the ice. Both of them didn’t even bat an eyeridge when he told them (with great reluctance that would shame all secret keepers to the grave) that he would be wearing an ice skating dress that he’d found at the dump. They only told him the advantages and disadvantages of the dress he picked up and made sure he had altered it enough to tailor his bones. Otherwise, it would have fallen off.

(They’d also immediately, and shamelessly, confessed to wearing dresses. Music had used it for some kind of duet with his brother, and Spin had confessed that his ice skating costumes blended masculine and feminine that no one would even care if he wore a dress when he skated with his brother as a pair.)

Both of those Sans had a secret identity. Music was called the Masked Musician in his universe, and not even his brother knew his identity yet. Music wasn’t much upfront about his secret identity stuff, but the blushing and the fumbling had told him that Music might have a crush. Spin was called the Spinning Star by his universe, and his brother was still thinking up a name for the mysterious night skater. Spin’s brother didn’t know his identity yet, and he also made the same blushing fumbling that made Sans think he also had a crush.

He didn’t know what to think about that. He wondered vaguely if he would also start admiring someone the moment he had a secret identity. He didn’t know who Music or Spin’s partner was, but they must be amazing enough to be noticed from the haze of apathy. Every Sans he saw on the machine had that apathetic outlook in life after the resets, each timeline numbing their souls with surprise and death. It didn’t matter in the end, but there was still hope if they were alive.

A single hope could grow from the right situation. With him, he had angrily rebuilt the machine from scratch and scoured the other universes from a screen. It had connected to Music’s link at first, then to Spin’s machine. The three of them had contacted each other frequently, because they had never met an edgy Sans like him, and Sans had never met kind monsters like them. It was oddly reassuring that they also took his advice when dealing with fortifying their belongings.

Sans had taken a leap of desperation and planned out an escape from the house when his brother was away. He had the rink constructed, the music prepared (and may that Music-Sans get all the food he wants for all the music he had Sans record). He had altered his dress (and if his magic got severely depleted from enhancing it so much, he didn’t care), made some extra accessories like those fans, because if he had to dress like a female ice dancer, he would need those.

Unlike Spin’s universe, ice dancing on his universe required a lot of heavy rules. One rule for effeminate skaters was silence, and a delicate but dangerous balance of power and finesse. They were required to have the grace of a queen of ice, and not once should they lose their emotional composure in the face of judgement (like Sans would ever be scared of himself). The fans helped maintain the composure, along with the veil that Sans had added to his attire.

He had a lot of practice. So much practice that he lost count of the days he had the practice, his determination to take as much scrap of happiness he could in their cruel world burning him from the inside. He had ignored Papyrus’ demeaning words about his laziness, ignored the pain from being pushed around by his younger brother. He opened himself to his friends, to the Sans-es that stuck together because they were tired of repetition, tired of the bonely lifestyle, tired of being stuck in the same loop of time that made them go crazy for something new. He had tried so hard, and he had finally managed to finish one program with one of the songs he had recorded in his soul.

He was at the rink at an inappropriate time, wearing the costume, and his face covered by a red veil with a delicate design of crystals. He was a hundred percent certain that anyone would recognize him if they saw him. He doubted there was another skeleton monster in the Underground with his size, or any other skeleton monster besides him and Papyrus.

His dress had been altered with see-through fabric, making its magic-infused crystals look like it was embedded in his bones, a symmetrical but intricate design across his clavicle, his shoulder bones, the neck of his humerus, and from his scapula down to the lumbar, creating a V-shape that symbolized the embodiment of finesse. The crystals dipped onto the chest of the red fabric, forming something that resembled a vine-like heart with wings, thought it was too vague to be sure.

The see-through sleeves reached his middle phalange, covering his metacarpus and his wrist like a cuff. The red fabric of the dress made him look like a rose with beads of dew, where it began on the front of his sternum, a careful dip on his back connected with see-through clothing, its skirt having three layers of gold-trimmed fabric that was slightly raised at the left of his iliac crest. It was so soft that he could barely feel it scratching on his clear stockings, one that extended into a pair of dark red skates with blades of white magic.

He wore the veil on his face, attached the elegant and delicate circlet on his skull before he had clipped the veil’s chains at the sides of the band. He had infused it with his magic, made sure it stuck on his skull until he dispelled the magic that held it down. He’d taken off the golden cap on his tooth, exposing the true fang that had been hidden most of the time he’d been off ice.

He summoned the music recorded with his soul, and like every memory that came with explaining the resets, it played perfectly. It was some arrangement that Music had made instrumental, a song called _Nessun Dorma_ that came with a story of a cold princess.

He’d thought it would help with his persona on the ice, and it did. It was a slightly hopeful song near the end, but he danced it anyway.

He glided with the music, spinning when he felt like expressing it, bringing his arms out and skating on his left blade, bending his back parallel to the ice with one leg lifted and spinning with his arms out for balance, and allowing his soul to blend into the persona of a cold princess.

He breathed with the music, felt his worries slip away, washing away his insecurities in a blink of an eye. Dancing, jumping, and gliding backward without care on the ice, sequence of change precise, because a queen must not make mistakes.

He was a calm and collected queen, someone with a cool head and an aloof persona. He was elegance and grace, a brave queen that would never allow anyone to talk rudely around him. He was pride and joy, a queen that was beloved by simpering peasants, but also gracious in his words. He didn’t let his people suffer, even if he made so many changes to fix his kingdom. He wanted a kingdom that flourished under his careful hands, under his commanding voice.

He was a nice queen. ‘ _heh heh heh._ ’ He was going to share that pun with the other Sans-es later.

When the song ended, he posed elegantly, just like he’d practiced, with his head upwards, one arm up front and one lowered behind him. He tried not to grin widely and opened his sockets, not having realized he had closed them in the first place. He kept the cool persona, noticing how easy it was to slip into someone else that wasn’t him.

He should have never listened to his brother. He was a natural on the ice, even if his skill on battle dancing was beyond the strongest battle dancer (probably because the strongest ones were on ice). He should have fought harder, not folded like a coward just because he never wanted to disappoint his brother. He should have tried harder not to bend to his brother’s will, because this? This felt like the most amazing thing in the whole Underground.

He never wanted to leave the ice.

He fought on keeping the outward persona of the ice queen in his head. He needed to be composed, not rethinking his life path. If he stayed on the ice, his brother would no doubt hunt him down and dust him for his silly little dreams. This was just a hobby, not a job.

He repressed a sigh and skated in circles, practicing a different routine this time. He’d wanted to skate to _Danse Macabre_ for Music, because nothing would be better than having a different program with the same music about skeletons (heh). He and Spin were planning to do separate programs with the same song, just to see how different they were in their styles. Spin had said their styles were similar, even if the programs they have were entirely different in expression. Sans’ was a little mellower on his Nessun Dorma this time. On other times, he had started with daring moves just like Spin, but this time… he had just wanted to enjoy himself on ice.

Then he heard the sound of clapping. “That was an amazing performance.”

Sans sharply twisted on ice and forced his body to face the location of the noise. He nearly swallowed his soul from shock, seeing his brother stepping onto the rink. Papyrus was wearing the ice skating attire that he’d stitched up for him.

His expression was unreadable, but Sans knew one thing to be true.

He was a dead skeleton skating.


	2. Velantares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The queen doesn't like his personal space invaded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Velantares, a mix of Vela (which is a constellation with spinning stars/pulsars) and Antares (a star, which means rival of Mars/Ares because of its redness; also, it is the "heart" of the Scorpio constellation).
> 
> Also, Velantares is apparently an anagram of "levantarse", which is Spanish for..."get up", "rise", "arise", "lift", "raise"... you get it. Like a phoenix from the dusty ashes, we have Icefell Sans.
> 
> (IT WAS AN ACCIDENT THAT I FOUND AN ANAGRAM!)

His eyelights sought the edges of the rink. His soul dropped once he saw the lack of shield on the rink.

He forgot to put up a shield.

In any time he was skating, he could have been dusted. He could have been _killed_. If his brother hadn’t announced his presence, he would’ve had vaguely assumed that he was safe. He forgotten to raise the shield because he’d become too _lenient_. After all, not many monsters ever visited the location. He’d never felt a sign of any monsters near the place!

Not that it mattered now. His brother was going to dust him.

He was going to be _dusted_. He hadn’t even written a will yet. He hadn’t even finished configuring the universal machine. He still hadn’t gotten the lifetime of gold he needed for his brother to live comfortably on his own. He still hadn’t told his brother about the old house in the Capital. He still hadn’t told his brother he loved him no matter what he did.

Now Papyrus was on the ice, slow-clapping like a dramatic villain building up the undeniable tension in the air and slowly skating towards him with a strange expression on his face. Sans was going to be killed sooner or later anyway, so he kept chanting in his head to keep his face unflappable, to stop the magical sweat from manifesting on his bones. He didn’t want to die. Who would take care of his brother if he died?

‘ _i’m a queen,_ ’ he thought forcefully and nervously just as his brother smirked slowly at him and further freaked him out. Those sharp teeth could pierce the toughest of bones.

He tried not to move under the eyes of a predator. There was no telling how his brother would react to him on the ice. His brother’s skates looked rather sharp.

‘ _i’m the queen,_ ’ he enforced, ‘ _i’m the queen of this rink and this is someone else, not my bro. i’m not going to die because this is my subject. he’s not my bro, he’s my subject. he’s not skating like a noble, more like a stranger passing by._ ’

And then his brother got too close to the border of the imaginary bubble.

He didn’t quite know why he did it, but the next thing he knew, his brother crossed the edge of the queen’s respectful space and Sans summoned one of his fans, and then slammed the accessory onto the side of his brother’s face, _hard,_ with the bejeweled guard.

_CLACK!_

His brother released a gasp of surprise as his face snapped to the side from the force of the hit. The sound it had made upon contact with his brother’s cheek had shaken Sans to the core of his soul. He didn’t understand how Papyrus could have just stood there and took the hit to the face without dodging. It was a _critical_ hit, and they both knew it. Sans had seen his brother’s HP go down by fifty points. To Papyrus, it must have been the equivalent of a triple-spear attack from Undyne.

His brother could have dodged it, but he _didn’t_.

It was an enchanted fan that could damage a monster with at least thirty hit points, but on a critical hit, it had lowered his brother’s HP significantly enough to cause concern. No monster in the Underground could have done that kind of damage from a single weapon. If Sans had accidentally summoned his other fan... he could have dusted his bro.

They both shared a speechless silence. Sans’ face had frozen in that aloof look, which was something he knew didn’t match his inner terror. Papyrus still hadn’t made a sound, but Sans knew. He was going to die. His subconscious had an infuriating death wish.

Sans felt his soul fluttering in distress when he heard Papyrus slowly release air from the hollow of his nose.

‘ _what did you do, you idiot!_ ’ he shouted at himself. His brother blinked owlishly, as if in shock, head still turned away from him. Sans felt horrified at what he’d done. ‘ _no, no, no, no, no! this isn’t happening. oh stars, this isn’t happening!_ ’

Sans inwardly screamed, mentally praying to the stars that his brother would make his death quick and not painful. He cursed at his stupid unexpected reflex in defending his queen identity’s personal space. It was a reflex that he hit his brother – his _brother!_

Sans felt like the world overthrew him when he realized it. Stars, oh no… he hit his _brother_.

He hit _Papyrus_!

He was dust. There was no other way to run, because he knew that no matter where he hid, his brother would be determinedly searching for him so he could kill the disgrace of the family.

 _He hit his brother with an enhanced fan accessory_.

Oh stars, if Papyrus didn’t kill him, Sans would strangle himself with his brother’s scarf for hitting someone in the family... his _brother_ , who he had never hit before, not even in his baby bones life. He’d never much dared to touch a single crack on his brother’s face! He was still his baby brother, even if he had lost his brother’s trust for some reason he had never discovered.

He had a single HP on his soul and it was an easy kill, even if the Karmic Retribution would make his brother reach the highest level possible and be cursed to experience eternal bad luck and regrets.

Then his brother chuckled suddenly. Sans braced his bones for an attack. He kept his face impassive because if he was going to die, the queen persona would die with him. He didn’t want his brother to kill him when he was a sobbing mess. Didn’t queens die with grace? He didn’t know, but he wasn’t about to just die without holding onto something he had months creating.

Oh stars… his mind turned into a mess!

“That… was an impressive hit, my lady.”

 _What._ Sans wanted to gape at his brother, badly. But he didn’t do it because it wasn’t queenly.

Papyrus turned his face back to Sans’ and skated backwards at a respectable distance. His stance was… _courteous_ , somehow, even if he was the offensive comet that went and interrupted his atmosphere, for sun’s sake. The observant look on Papyrus’ face sent cold shivers down his spine. He cursed his luck, wishing he had checked if he had placed up the shields to his rink.

As Papyrus simply stood there and did nothing but stare rudely, the queen in him calmed down, even if he was frightened and confused by the lack of death threats and the sudden ‘my lady’ (malady, more like) of his brother. Papyrus simply looked… amazed, his admiring eyelights observing his attire with wicked disregard for good manners.

Sans felt a little offended by the idea that he could be a threat. He wasn’t the one with the Royal Guard status. Sure, he was a sentry, but that didn’t mean he had training like the Captain of the Royal Guard.

Was his brother hallucinating? What in Asgore’s throne was he seeing? Didn’t he know it was his older brother in a dress, on ice? Someone who was supposed to be on the land, never to even poke a phalanx on ice? How many skeleton monsters did Papyrus know? Why hadn’t Sans met them?!

Sans didn’t grace him with an answer, because queens didn’t talk to strangers without a name, and he was nervous by the way his brother was acting. Papyrus didn’t seem angry, so Sans simply stood there blankly and met his brother’s sockets with an unruffled look that he didn’t feel inside. Deeply, he was ruffled as much as possible, cowering under the strain of his effort and trying so hard not to be noticed. He wanted to look elsewhere, not have eye contact with his brother. He wanted to turn tail and hide somewhere his brother would never find him.

“Oh, I see,” Papyrus mused out loud, looking at him in a weird way that Sans had never seen before in his entire life. Sans felt the strain of magic as he fought not to sweat all over his dress. “I haven’t introduced myself, have I not? I am the Great and Terrible Papyrus, my lady. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

And then his brother bowed, with his right arm across his sternum, his creepy red eyelights peeking at him expectantly from under the ridge of his sockets.

Sans secretly died from so much internal screaming. He reflexively dipped his adorned skull, because a queen didn’t curtsey like some ditzy, lower-class princess. He would be dead if anyone caught him doing a princess curtsey after his queen dance. And if his brother was going to continue this charade, he wasn’t about to stop him. Queens did have composure even if death was about to take their soul, right?

“May I know your name?” Papyrus asked in an overly polite tone that leaked of intense curiosity. He still didn’t seem to recognize Sans. That curiosity was a dangerous sign.

Sans panicked. He didn’t have a name. He hadn’t thought _that_ far into his queen persona. He’d thought it was a good idea to start slow, and in secret. He’d never planned to be revealed! This was his _private time_ , the usual time he skated uninterrupted, not some kind of freak show that just invited dangerous monsters to watch them!

Papyrus started to look impatient, and Sans’ soul nearly jolted out of his bones when his brother’s browridge twitched with a familiarly suppressed annoyance. He forced his mind to think of a name… _any_ name!

‘ _name. crap. make a name. think a name! stars! what did spin said about pulsars again, that one constellation with the weird name. at least it sounded like a name—_ ’

 _Vela_! It was Vela!

He wanted so badly to clear his imaginary throat to gain more composure, but with that look on his brother’s face, it would be impossible to try and escape his line of questioning.

“Vela—” Sans paused to contain a squeak from making his voice a little high-pitched, panicking wordlessly when his brother raised a browridge at his pause. He hadn’t really thought that far for his name, but now that he had paused he needed to add more, because his brother would think it was a nickname to something longer. He tried to find an appropriate name, something unique enough that it was surely monster-made, not something human! “Vel… antares.”

‘ _what in the sun’s name is a velantares, you idiot!_ ’ Sans mentally screamed at himself some more, even if he kept his face uninterested. He was shaking in fear inside his soul, because that name didn’t even sound real.

Inwardly, he was shaking like a leaf, a sobbing mess of a skeleton fearing for his soul. He didn’t know how long he could keep up this charade of being a queen of ice. He only hoped his brother wouldn’t catch on to the extreme uniqueness of the name.

“Velantares…?” Papyrus murmured in a lower voice. It was funny how Sans thought it was almost soothing if it wasn’t for his brother’s position in the Royal Guard. His brother was merciless, and there wasn’t a chance that he didn’t dust a monster going against a set of Underground rules.

His brother slowly straightened himself, as if trying not to startle him into running for the trees and escaping the company of a terrifying predator. What a foolish thought. It wasn’t as if Sans had any chance of outrunning his brother without using a shortcut and revealing his powers.

“What a beautiful name, my lady,” Papyrus said with the slickness of an experienced duster. Sans would shudder visibly if he could, but he probably should never even try to move with the way his brother was observing him. “Were you named after a constellation and a star?”

Sans gazed at his brother, privately astounded that his brother would remember a constellation and a star from Sans’ astronomy books he’d ripped apart in the past. Papyrus hadn’t been He wanted to shrug, but queens did not shrug, they answered questions if it wasn’t personal enough.

“Perhaps,” Sans replied shortly in the same high-pitched voice. It was a queenly enough response that Papyrus would probably overlook the short answer. It was vague, but still a suitable reply. He didn’t really know what to say to his brother, if not scream at his face and run away like a mouse from his sharpened claws of fury.

Papyrus smirked, and Sans inwardly feared for his life. “If I may say so, this is the first time I have seen a… _skeleton_ monster besides my brother and I.”

 _What_.

Sans would have loved to give his brother an incredulous look, but queens probably didn’t do that, so he settled for something flat and disinterested. “Fascinating,” he responded in his driest of tones.

First time seeing a skeleton monster unrelated to their family of two? What a laugh! They were the only skeleton monster around. Still, maybe being short with him would make Papyrus skate away? He waited patiently.

It didn’t help.

Now his brother looked even _more_ interested, making Sans deeply uncomfortable by the look on his face. He hadn’t meant for Papyrus to be even more curious of him! He just wanted Papyrus to skate away and leave him on his own, and preferably not come back to the ice rink unless it was secure.

“Frankly, I like to be forward with words, my lady,” Papyrus began with a strange purr that sent dread down his spine, looking decisively determined, “I would like to say that you are the most stunning ice dancer I have ever met.”

_What?_

“I would also like to offer an invitation to pair up on the ice. The Great Papyrus has seen your skill and it is… complementary to my own. You are like a striking phoenix rising from the ashes of this world, stronger and even more remarkable. I would like that phoenix beside me when I dance.”

_WHAT?!_

Sans inwardly hyperventilated even as he stopped his magic from flushing his skull, crashing through memories of etiquette on ice. He didn’t know what to say! He didn’t know what to do about this! What was his brother doing, flirting with him like this? Flirting with a stranger! Didn’t he know it was his brother that he was speaking with? Who else talked like him? He doubted his voice could be feminine enough to fool him!

No one fooled his brother and got away with it!

His brother looked at him expectantly with sparkling sockets that made him look like a cute, demented puppy in search of a red ball on green grass… a puppy that could tear into him if he even stepped out of place, or if he discovered the person behind a veil.

He tried to stop the panic, but he couldn’t. He could just imagine what meteors his brother would unleash on his bones if he ever knew who was behind the translucent veil.

He resigned himself to forever earning his brother’s wrath. Why would it matter if his brother got even frustrated with him? Sans was already a burden, and he already earned most of his brother’s ire.

Sans swallowed hard and thought of how to escape his brother’s attention. He was a hundred percent certain that his brother didn’t recognize him. There wasn’t a hint of recognition on that bony face, no matter how hard Sans tried to seek it.

His brother wasn’t really that foolish… was he? It was obviously _Sans_ in a dress, not some random skeleton from out of nowhere! His veil was translucent enough that it couldn’t hide his sharp teeth or… the golden cap on his tooth.

He was missing the golden cap on his tooth.

Crap. Was that it? Was that the reason his brother didn’t recognize him? It was a golden cap for his tooth. Did he really think Sans could survive from a hit that could have knocked his tooth off?

“I must decline your invitation,” Sans replied in the same higher-pitched voice. His brother’s face fell in disappointment, but it was subtle. “You have yet to apologize for approaching me at a disrespectful distance and I dance alone.”

That was the right thing to say, right?

Sans turned, quickly but elegantly skated off the rink, dispersing the magic blades from his skates with a small flick of his phalanges. He really didn’t want to stay anywhere near his brother before or during an explosion of his emotions. He was retreating with grace outwardly, but inwardly he was escaping sudden death.

He walked on the surface of the snow with delicate tendrils of gravity magic under his boots to hold him up. He then ran deeply into the woods while scrambling cameras left and right, and then he took a shortcut point that lacked the Royal Scientist’s cameras to step into his old lab.

Once he was alone, he stripped off the costume and broke down into panicked breathing, grasping his ribs with fear. He leaned on the counter and looked for the golden cap for his tooth and held it there with his magic so it would never fall off. Then, he grabbed his collar and his regular clothes from one of the drawers and hastily slipped them on.

He stared at the table with hazy eyelights, clutching the edge of the counter with trembling phalanges, thumbs digging in to make small scratched on the old polish of the surface. His eyelights narrowed to a single picture frame on the counter.

There was an old picture frame on the centre of the counter, and inside it… a photo of him and his baby bones brother, both of them beaming brightly at the camera. They had been found sneaking into their dad’s lab and Gaster had caught them right on time before the other dangerous experiments found them. Gaster had been a good dad to them, but the moment he disappeared from existence, the monsters had turned to them and chased them off.

Sure, he still had the keys for their old house in the Capital, but Sans could barely have the time to visit when crazy monsters were out to take easy LOVE, not to mention his brother would probably dust him for daring to leave him in Snowdin. He really didn’t want Papyrus to see anything inside that house. Not since the moment Papyrus had discovered his astronomy book and had ripped it apart right in Sans’ face. His brother had ruthlessly thrown it in a fire and stomped on its ashes.

Sans had immediately crumbled under the pressure of his brother’s forcefulness and had gone numbed, nearly apathetic to the lives they had taken. He took any job that his brother forced onto his shoulders. Papyrus had announced that laziness would be the death of him, but Sans had thought the general emptiness in his soul had to be enough to dust him from the inside.

Sans had hollowly accepted the sentry work. He hadn’t much choice in it, not when his brother had made it clear that his silly interest in astronomy had no use to their lives.

It was only luck that he had fixed the machine in the sound-proof lab and met Spin and Music. They had encouraged him despite his great reluctance and snappish attitude. They overlooked his soured personality and had dug deep inside his insecurities to pull out someone he had selfishly kept hidden from the Underground – the one who still held onto the hope that everything would be fine in the end.

The kid that had the power to reset was a pacifist.

Sans carefully turned the frame face-down on the counter and sighed heavily. After the death of their dad, Papyrus hadn’t stayed the same. Without anyone to keep them safe, Papyrus had started to become secretive and irritable. Sans had tried his best to keep them dry and safe, but the scars that easily disappeared from their bones would never be erased in their minds.

Papyrus had decided to take matters into his own hands. Sans had to work as a sentry, take a lot of extra jobs while Papyrus had taken a lot of LOVE to become a Royal Guard. A few more months in training, his brother had become second to the Undyne. However, based on the pattern of his brother’s ruthless ambition, Sans had a feeling that sooner or later, Undyne would be Papyrus’ second-in-command, and Papyrus would start looking at him to achieve some kind of greatness from his example.

He forced out a laugh at his situation and dug his phalanges into the counter. There was no way to get out of this. Of all monsters to stumble upon his secret rink and earn the first hit from his fan, it had to be his brother. He shouldn’t have done that. He shouldn’t have hurt his brother like that. Sans wasn’t someone who hurt their brother for no reason like that.

Sans cursed and grabbed the ice brooch’s blueprint from one of the drawers. He rapidly scanned the design with his eyelights, and then he ripped the blueprint into tiny scraps of useless paper once he committed it to memory. He scooped the scraps up and pushed it into a shortcut to the incinerator. Spin had another copy of the original, so he wasn’t that worried about it being inaccessible. It only took a little energy to take a shortcut to the locked room.

Even if he had hit his brother – his _brother_ – in the face, there was no way he had mistaken the look of fascination on Papyrus’ face. It had been a quick flash, but Sans recognized the familiar determination emanating from his brother’s hidden magic.

His brother found a challenge in his queen persona, like he had found in Undyne.

He needed help.

Sans immediately turned around and went for the machine, hoping the other idiots would be awake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Updates are random.

**Author's Note:**

> All mistakes mine! Inspired by real-life skaters and anime skaters??? Also, a lot of belly-dancing inspiration for the costumes.  
> [progress and stuff](https://ibeta.tumblr.com/progress)


End file.
